Our Plan
by Emyr
Summary: Sylar gets a visit from Claire, but something tells him that this time it will end differently.


**Hello! This little creation took about an hour but I kinda like it, so here you go! **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes.**

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He didn't expect her to ring the doorbell but she never seemed to run out of surprises. He would wait until the third bell, long enough to piss her off but just short of making her knock down the door.

Click, clack, cling. He stepped away from the entrance as the door swung open.

"Claire."

The shot rang in unison with her name. Right in the center of his chest, he noticed, as his eyes traveled down to the spot. She has gotten very good after all of these years.

She watched him like an eagle as the bullet slowly worked its way out and the flesh healed. His shirt would remain stained. Pity, he wore it just for her. He cocked his head to the side and motioned her to step in, and soon enough she confidently walked past him. As usual, her fiery eyes stayed focused on his frame and he couldn't help but let out a low chuckle. Yet he had a nagging feeling that tonight her gaze held something different. With Claire things never got boring.

He could sense her irritation and even sympathized a little, not that he would ever tell her. He didn't tell her many things, like the fact that she looked painfully good in that shirt or that he was glad she dyed her hair back to blond, or that this game of theirs was getting a little old. When would she stop being stubborn and just admit that there was no way around--

"Sylar, I realized something last night," she turned away from him and he couldn't tell what captured her attention on one of his blank walls.

He raised an eyebrow, "And what would that be?"

"You can't die."

What was this all about? Did she honestly ignore him every time he told her that? She said she did but he assumed it was all to piss him off, even the cheerleader couldn't be that dense. Just as he was about to insert a clever retort she continued.

"And not because you change the position of your turn off switch every hour like a paranoid freak, but because...," Claire tensed and grit her teeth. The sound was, of course, caught by Sylar's sensitive ears and he waited for her to continue.

The moon was bright outside of his dingy little apartment and Sylar was hit with a wave of nausea that passed as quickly as it came but made a lasting impression. What were they doing? Now, then, forever...What did he want from his eternal existence and why hadn't he figured it out yet?

"Because, I don't want to kill you," Claire's voice woke him up from his brief reverie and he focused on her again.

"Last night I realized our potential. I looked around and I saw pain and sadness everywhere. It's been one hundred years and people are still overcome by greed and selfish motives. I dropped my purse and saw a beggar run away with it, and it hit me, that nothing changed."

She turned around and faced him, the moonlight making her look almost ethereal.

"I don't want to live but I can't die and neither can you. I know you never wanted to be a hero, and in all truth I don't think either of us could, even if we wanted to. But how can you stand being proven so powerless, to help our rotting world, every second of your damned life?"

His eyes were piercing through her tiny frame as he considered her words. She was right when she said he was never going to be a hero. Heroes do things for the sake of other, and he would help her for his own sake. Maybe this was her pull for his push. Compromise was bound to happen at some point of their screwed up relationship so why shouldn't he take that step now.

He took a step towards her and placed his fingertips on her cheek. She didn't flinch and held his gaze as he smirked at her.

"Partners, huh? I can just see it, I and darling Claire-bear, changing the world. Who would have ever thought?"

His hand trailed down her face and slowly he brought it back down to his side, "I'd ask if you had a plan, but judging from the past hundred or so years, you really don't seem like a--"

Her face morphed into a more familiar scowl, different from the foreign expression that she just held, "I didn't exactly plan on teaming up with an ex-serial killer, but now that you ask, yes, I do indeed, have a plan."

"Well, lets hear it."

An 'ex-serial killer' was better then he expected and frankly he didn't mind her current improvisation in regards to their futures.

Because sometimes the best things were left unplanned.


End file.
